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February 10, 2016 Poetry

Two Poems

Indiana Jones

Two Poems photo

 

THE HEART OF THE MATTER

If I had any money I would leave the country. There aren't any people here and I know them all. I only want to express myself, but you can't say things like "Nobody loves me" or "My life is completely empty" and expect to be taken seriously. Unfortunately, what we have at the heart of the matter is a bloody beating heart situated at too great a distance from a perfectly rational brain to be under its influence, a situation with no inversion. When he leaves he leaves a negative space, but as someone who thinks critically I know it is in the gaps we find true meaning. Still, what I would like most is to be inside all of it, with no awareness, least of all of myself. Why can't a whale symbolize a whale? Why must a green light portend deeper meaning? If I drive by your house nine or ten times a night, or sit smoking in my car watching the shadows in your windows for movement in the light, does it make me in love, or does it make me insane? My great heroic flaw is that I ask too many questions. Also that I bite my nails. I don't have any faith yet still I hope this cigarette lasts forever. I hope James Franco shows up right this second. I hope I die with your huge cock in my ass but you don't immediately realize it and you haven't come yet so you keep going.

 

 

THE MOON IS A CREEP

Fisting can't be a thing that happens in real life. I have to believe that or never go on another date ever. To each his or her own, certainly, but you have to wonder about the first person to be like, Yeah, put your whole fist in my asshole, and also about the one who was like, Okay, sure, and did it. But then again, maybe they were in love.

 

 

image: Carabella Sands


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